Breath

At first, we were hopeful. The ambulance came quicker than expected, and Placerville, only twenty minutes away, had a good stroke intervention team. What did I know about strokes? Nothing, really, but I was going to learn. Time was important when it came to treatment. Time seemed to be on Viridian’s side. She was given medicine to dissolve the blood clot, as well as a CT scan, glucose monitoring, intubation, more. The whole array of medical weapons.

I didn’t know any of this right away. I stayed behind at the conference while Tony, Barb, Sacha, and Anders followed the ambulance to Placerville. Sacha said she’d call the office phone when they knew something. Gil and I were left to try and calm people down. There was some crying, emotions spilling over. We opened the bar, but it wasn’t a night for a party.

I didn’t cry. I felt numb and shaky. Doug decided to make the drive to Placerville also. Larry trudged down to the lodge to wait for his ride out. He and Doug shook hands and spoke together for a moment. Once they were both gone, I headed to the conference center and sat in the office among the long-dead animals to wait.

I guess I fell asleep. The phone rang and made me come to. I fought the chair for balance as I answered. “Hello?”

“Carla? It’s Sacha, I wanted to give you an update, but there’s not a lot we know. There was surgery to remove the clot and she hasn’t yet woken up, that’s what they’re waiting for now.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Nothing definite. They’re all very professional. Very nice. I don’t know if a larger hospital would have done anything differently.”

“But it’s serious, right?”

She sighed. “Yes, honey. Any stroke would be.” We were quiet, and I imagine both of us were thinking about the damned pills that Viridian wouldn’t take, the appointments she wouldn’t make, all her stubborn recklessness. Then Sacha said Tony would be coming back that night, he’d make sure we got any news.

I thought about calling Aaron. But I was afraid he might disappoint me without meaning to. His sympathy would fall short somehow, and I’d end up mad. It wasn’t that late, not quite ten. I called my mom.

It rang three, then four times. She wouldn’t recognize the number and might not pick up. Then she answered. “Hello?”

“Mom? It’s Carla.”

“Carla? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I mean, I’m fine.” I heard some kind of distant racket, and people talking in the background. “Where are you?”

“Santa Rosa,” she said unhelpfully. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m still at the conference. Viridian had a stroke. We don’t know how she is yet, or what to expect.”